Gerald vile enough to threaten a three-year-old child with a leather belt over a cold drink in front of the entire crime family

Evelyn didn't hesitate. Weeping hysterically, her hands shaking so violently she dropped two rings onto the flagstones, she ripped the diamond studs from her ears and pulled the heavy platinum bands from her swollen fingers. She threw them into the grass at Valentina’s feet, curling back into a ball like a beaten dog.

"Take them to the service gate," Valentina ordered her guards.

Two towering enforcers stepped forward, hauling Gerald up by his broken arms, while two more dragged Evelyn out from beneath the broken lattice. Gerald shrieked in agony as his shattered jaw was jostled, his expensive loafers scraping against the paving stones, leaving trails in the spilled flour and crushed bread rolls.

"Valentina! You think you've won?!" Gerald screamed through his tears as he was dragged toward the path. "You think Chicago won't notice?! Don Marcus Falco has eighty men staged across the state line in Newark right now! They’re waiting for my phone call! When they find out you crushed this deal, they’ll burn your shipping terminals to the waterline!"

Valentina did not turn around. She stood tall in the center of the garden, her hands resting easily in her trouser pockets, her voice smooth and unbothered.

"Tell Marcus Falco I’ll be waiting at the docks, Gerald," she said softly. "And tell him to bring his own shovel."

The heavy service doors clicked shut, cutting off Gerald’s screaming protests and dragging the traitors into the subterranean holding cells beneath the carriage house.

The garden fell into an absolute, ringing silence.

Valentina looked across the lawn at the remaining thirty guests. The wives were pale, clutching their champagne flutes in silence; the capos stood at rigid attention, their loyalty freshly hammered into iron by the display of absolute, merciless authority they had just witnessed.

"The luncheon is concluded," Valentina announced calmly. "The catering staff will pack your vehicles. Return to your territories. Double the security on the Brooklyn and Manhattan piers. If a single truck bearing Illinois plates crosses the state line, notify Dante immediately."

"Yes, Donna Valentina," the capos answered in unison, bowing their heads with deep, genuine submission.

Within twenty minutes, the lawn was clear of guests.

The broken wooden cabinet, the scattered bread rolls, and the torn lattice wall were being cleared away by an efficient cleanup crew in dark jumpsuits. The bright midsummer sun continued to pour over the estate, illuminating the sparkling clean water of the fountain and the pristine emerald grass, washing away every physical trace of the violence that had just taken place.

Valentina walked up the grand stone stairs of the villa, pushing open the heavy French doors leading to the private library.

The room was cool, shaded, and quiet.

Lily was sitting on a plush leather sofa, swinging her small sandals, happily eating a bowl of fresh strawberries that Mrs. Gable had prepared. She still held the cold can of cherry soda on the side table, taking sips through a striped paper straw.